The Pen Pal
by pupdog2000
Summary: When Annabeth's boarding school introduces an english project in her grade where the students become pen pals with a delinquent in a reformatory camp in Texas she draws the name of a murderer who will do anything to prove he's innocent. Is he telling the truth? And why is her classmate Drew so interested in her all of a sudden? Adopted from 'Rainbows and Sunshine.'
1. The Assignment

It was just another Thursday afternoon in Annabeth's Architecture school, Goode High. Annabeth glanced sceptically at her classmates. It was evident that she was the only person even remotely paying attention.

She sighed.

_When where they going to learn? Paying attention was the crucial for getting the top grades! Did they think they could slack off in class and get straight A's for their subjects?! Certainly not! What a preposterous idea! _Annabeth thought.

"Brighten up, class." Mr. Harret sighed. He was a man in his sixties with a prominent bald spot on his head. A pair of black glasses rested on his nose. "The school has assigned all of you with a project that will count for 10% of your total grades, if you do it well and it's ridiculously easy. Really, it's like we're giving away marks."

"How?" Danko, the boy who sat two rows behind her asked greedily. He was a borderline failure, and Annabeth guessed that he was excited at the prospect of getting a boost on his total percentage. She shook her head mentally. She did not like the prospect of this project. No sweat, no gain. That was the way things worked. This project sounded too true to be good.

_Besides_, the dark side of her thought, _This might gives others the edge over me. I will not allow that to happen, after all my hard work. Hell no!_

Mr. Harret sighed again. "You are to write letters to convicted youth in a reform camp in Texas, where they labor day and night to make up for the crime they committed. The project is called _Letters of Hope_ and the main aim is for the letters to encourage the delinquents not to give up on tomorrow, and to encourage them to be better citizens." Mr. Harret spat out the word delinquent like it burnt his tongue.

Annabeth's jaw dropped just as Drew Tanaka, the diva of the class who sat three seats horizontally in front of her, spluttered and stood up angrily, her chair scraping the tile of the classroom. She pushed her raven black hair out of her chocolate brown eyes fashionably, like the diva she was. Many boys (and a few girls) drooled at her perfect complexion and 'natural beauty'. Everything about her screamed _Fake!_, well at least to Annabeth. She was perhaps the only one in class that thought so. Why come to an Architecture boarding school if you have no interest in school? Drew constantly spent her time flirting with boys and checking her reflection in the girls' room.

"I will not communicate with uneducated criminals!" Drew said simply, tossing her hair.

Annabeth snorted. Drew thought the delinquents were uneducated? Please! Drew was the most shallow and dumbest girl she knew. Even though the school had a set uniform which all the girls had to wear, Drew still managed to customize hers in such a way that her attire was different from everyone else's. Her skirt was exactly 5 inches above the knee, no less no more, not breaking the school rules but showing as much skin as possible. Annabeth supposed Drew had the occasional brain wave as to how to look as attractive as possible.

"Miss Tanaka! Please sit down! The youth at the camp are not uneducated! They… They have lessons every day to keep up with their education! Please do not be so rude. Also, this counts for part of your part of your English grade, Miss Tanaka!" Mr. Harret said impatiently.

Drew swept the hair out of her eyes again (_Seriously?_ Annabeth thought exasperatedly. _Who has hair that falls into their eyes every 10 seconds?_) and sat down gracefully, earning more love-struck glances from the boys and a few girls of the class.

"I don't need the 10% percent," Drew said coolly as she crossed her legs.

Annabeth fumed. How dare Drew! Each and every percent was important! Each percent made up to form the 100 percent, which Annabeth was aiming for. That was the reason she stayed up way after lights-off, hiding under her covers with her wind-up flash light, reading and re-reading her textbooks and panicking when she heard footsteps approaching her room.

Mr. Harret seemed to feel Annabeth's anger. "This project is compulsory," He said coldly. "Even if you want to throw your grades out the window, which I cannot help. You, and only you are responsible for you learning. At this age, no amount of chiding will help."

Annabeth nodded, completely agreeing with Mr. Harret. Each person can only take their learning as far as he or she wants to. It was sad that most students in her class did not take their studies seriously. Some of them had serious potential to do well and be a useful member to society.

Mr. Harret looked sadly at his class, most of which were resting with their heads glued to the desk, with the exception of Annabeth and a few others. _At least Annabeth is excited,_ he thought encouragingly. He reached under his table and produced a small box, along with a pile of paper and set it on the table.

"You will draw names in this box. The names in this box belong to the delinquents of Section E of the camp. The other classes are writing to Sections A, B, C, D, F and G of the camp. There are exactly thirty of you in this class, including Brian who is absent. There are thirty names to be drawn. Brian will take the remaining name that is not drawn. Now-"

"I'll go first," Drew interrupted, brushing her hair out of her eyes _again_, and rising from her seat. Mr. Harret usually gave in to her unreasonable demands because he didn't want to deal with her temper and drama. She could really whine and complain when she wanted to. But not this time.

"No," Mr. Harret said simply, folding his hands against his chest sternly. "Not this time, Miss Tanaka. Miss Chase will go first. Unlike you, she has been paying rapt attention the whole time. She has an immaculate record, unlike you. And she actually cares about her studies, unlike you. I think she deserves to draw first, unlike you. Now, Miss Chase, if you would."

Silence fell over the class. A few glance impressed glances at Mr. Harret and Drew gave Annabeth the death glare, while her fanboys and fangirls glared at Mr. Harret.

Annabeth blinked uncertainly, then a wide grin spread over her face. Mr. Harret thought so highly of her, and had said her records were immaculate! She felt unbelievably happy. She had wanted this day to come for a long time! A day when Mr. Harret would praise her and recognise her hard work.

Drew looked shocked and hurt. "I'll… I'll complain to the principal! I'll make sure… I'll make sure you get… Get… Get… Fired!" She swept her hair out of her eyes and smirked at Mr. Harret, with all her admirers looking at her with shining eyes. _How dare she threaten Mr Harret?!_ Annabeth thought angrily.

Mr. Harret shrugged. "Miss Chase, if you would?"

Annabeth had new-found respect for her teacher and his nonchalant attitude. She walked up to the front of the class confidently and stopped in front of Mr. Harret's table.

"I won't let you get fired," she promised.

"I've been teaching here for thirty years," Mr. Harret said, grinning. "Draw a name."

Annabeth smiled back and reached into the box. Her fingers danced around the slips of paper, wondering which one she should take. Finally she settled for a piece of paper that seemed right to her. She pulled it out and stared at it with wide eyes.

"Perseus Jackson," Mr. Harret whispered in horror. He looked at Annabeth with concern in his eyes.

"I'll be fine," she choked out. _Why him?! Anyone but him, oh anyone really! Why Jackson?!_

"Good luck." Mr Harret said sadly.

* * *

**Like it said in the summary, this story was adopted and the first seven chapters will be the same, well except for a few small changes. To those reading my other story _Demigods At Goode _my computer crashed and deleted the thirteenth chapter. I am almost finished rewriting it though so expect an update in a week or two since I'll have to send it to my beta when I'm done.**


	2. Chapter Two

Mr. Harret handed Annabeth two sheets of paper stapled together from the pile, and she wordlessly walked back to her seat, her fingers still clutching the slip of paper that said _You will be writing to **PERSEUS JACKSON** of **Section E** of **TYRC (Texas Youth Reformation Camp)**. Congratulations!._

"She's writing to Jackson?!" Drew exclaimed in disbelief. "No way! The crack-nut who robbed Torique and Ami Strong and subsequently killed them?" Annabeth silently mused at the fact that Drew knew what Perseus had done to get arrested. News like that didn't usually get printed in fashion magazines, and Drew only ever read those.

"Next," Mr. Harret said emotionless, ignoring Drew. "Miss Tanaka, you can come up next if you like."

Drew tossed her hair and stood up, sighing. She crossed over to Mr. Harret's desk and quickly chose a slip, then grabbed the stapled sheets of paper and returned to her desk.

The process went on for some time, until everyone in the class had a pen pal and the stapled packet. A few of them were as unhappy as Annabeth was about their delinquent pen pals. While some people didn't recognise all the names of those in Section E, Annabeth knew what all of them had done. Some had been sent there for stealing. Others for fighting. A few for murder.

"Remember, no trading! You write who you get, alright class?" Mr. Harret said as he placed the now empty box under his desk. "And… There goes the bell. You are dismissed. You may go home, or to your dorm rooms. Remember to do your homework and start on the project. Everything you need to know is stated on the paper you got-" His speech was truncated as almost everyone in the room rushed out.

Annabeth was packing her bag quietly when Drew sauntered over to her side.

"Hey," Drew said, swiping her hair out of her pale brown eyes.

Annabeth frowned. "Are you… Trying to hit on me?"

Drew glared at her. "Obviously not, nerd. Listen, well, would you trade with-"

"We're not supposed to trade," Annabeth said simply. "Although the rules don't apply to you, I play by them."

"Think about it. Perseus is a murderer. Are you sure you want to write to him? What if he gets your address and targets you? You could be in massive trouble."

_Touché_, Annabeth thought miserably. "No," she said firmly. "I took his name. I write him. It's ok. Thanks for the offer though, but it's ok."

"No really, I don't mind! I'll write Perseus in your place! You can take Hazel Levesque, whom I believe went to the camp for stealing a pair of expensive headphones from an electronic hardware store?"

"She stole a horse," Annabeth corrected automatically.

Drew rolled her eyes. "Yeah, so I've got a horse-stealing hippie and you've got a murderer. Do you want to switch?"

The offer was so tempting, but Annabeth was sure that her ego was going to be damaged beyond recognition if she accepted Drew's offer. "No it's fine. Really. You can write to Hazel, I'll stick with Perseus. Thanks for the offer though, Drew," Annabeth said sweetly. "I'll see you around… I guess." With that, she swept her backpack of the ground and rushed out of the classroom.

Annabeth did not look back as she walked out coolly. If she did, she would have seen Drew furiously texting on her phone and looking extremely frustrated.

* * *

Perseus, or rather Percy, as he liked others to call him, stumbled out of the faded bus, and on to the barren Texas land. A faded sign that had seen better days, was placed about a hundred feet away from him. It stated _Welcome to **TYRC (Texas Youth Reformation Camp)**. Please state your purpose of visit._ Behind the sign was a tall electric wire that boxed up the whole area. The gate to the fence was locked with a heavy padlock. Inside the Camp, Percy could see a simple white-washed office building. Off in the distance, there were 7 brick buildings. _Well,_ Percy thought dejectedly. _No escape._

He looked at the driver who had driven him all the way from New York.

"Thank you for driving me all the way here. But… What if I told you I was innocent?'" The driver, an old man in his fifties with silvery hair with a pair sunglasses perched snuggly on his nose, snorted and patted Percy on the head.

"Been driving brats from all over the country to Camp for twenty years. Heard it all. I'm innocent, I didn't do it, It's a misunderstanding, They've got it wrong. In the end, it's all excuses. You're here because of one person. You know who that is?"

Percy didn't answer. The question was rhetorical anyway.

''That's you. You. You are 100% responsible for your presence in this camp. Perseus Jackson, right?"

"Percy," Percy corrected.

"Yeah, you the Perseus kid. I know all about you. Read all 'bout you on the news. Bet you're regretting killing them now? This generation is really messed up. You're only what, fourteen?"

"Seventeen," Percy corrected. He found no point telling the man again that he was innocent. Nobody believed him. After his trial two weeks ago, he was officially a convicted criminal. Life was looking extremely bright for him. He had gotten accepted by his dream college, and had found a girlfriend. Then, he had gotten himself arrested. Damn.

"Yeah. Fourteen-year-olds robbing and killing people!" the man shook his head. "Of course, that's not the worse I've seen. Had this fifteen year old who had killed his mother and brother. For no reason! His relations! Can you imagine?"

"Not really, no."

"Why'd you kill them? They made you mad, or what? I can't understand, really. Why'd you do that? Didn't you think of the consequence? Ah, there is Mr D!" Percy looked at the man approaching them from beyond the electronic fence.

"Who is he?" Percy asked.

"Mr D," the man replied simply, looking at Percy like he was a few oranges short of a fruit salad. "Mr D. You don't know him? Mr D."

"No…?" Percy said, feeling confused. "So who is he?"

"Mr D."

"I see," Percy said, even though he didn't understand what the man meant.

* * *

"Ok. Urgent meeting," Drew hissed into her phone. "Big business."

"What kind of 'big business'?" a voice drawled lazily from the other side of the phone.

"Shut up!" Drew growled. "We got assigned 'Letters of Hope' today."

"And what's that?"

"A retarded project where we write criminals from the camp in Texas. You know Annabeth, that… That little shit in my class?"

"No need to swear, dear. What about Annabeth?"

"Well…" Drew burst out, "She's writing Jackson!" She swiped her hair out of her dirt brown eyes irritatedly and gestured wildly for emphasis, although she could not be seen over the phone. "We have to stop her somehow."

"Perseus… Jackson? The brat we framed?"

"How many Jacksons do you know?!" she exclaimed exasperatedly. How dense was he going to be?!

"There's a guy called Jackson in my class, dear."

"Perseus Jackson!" Drew shouted. "Jackson. Perseus!"

"She'll work it out," he said seriously, the mocking tone of his voice gone. "She's too smart."

"I hate to agree, but you're right. So, in a nutshell…"

"We're doomed." The voice said seriously, with a trace of fear in his voice.


	3. Chapter 3

_Right…_ Annabeth thought as she sat in the lounge room of the dormitory, relaxing on the couch. She had finished all the work assigned that day and checked that it was perfect. Normally she would have taken out her textbooks to read, but there is only so many times one could re-read a piece of reading material before going completely mad. So, Annabeth had opted to start reading the letter Mr. Harret had handed everyone, even though she really didn't want to get started on the project because writing to a criminal was safe, entertaining and fun.

Even if ten percent of her grade was involved, Annabeth was not looking forward to the project. Oh, she knew she should have traded with Drew… Writing to a horse-stealer sounded so much more appealing than writing to someone that took lives. Even so, Annabeth did not think her ego could take it if she accepted help from Drew. Plus Mr. Harret already knew she got Jackson. What good was trading her paper with someone else?

Sighing, she stared at the black bold words _**All About Letters Of Hope**._

* * *

Mr. D walked up to the gate and unlocked it. He had a head full of curly, dirt brown hair that framed his round face, and had an obvious port-belly. Not that anyone would say that in his face. He was wearing a leopard print tee that was doing little to conceal his stomach, and a pair of khaki pants. Golden running shoes clad his feet, even though Percy highly doubted the man ever exercised. He carried a bottle of coke zero in his hand.

"This is the Jason kid?" he drawled lazily, taking a sip from the can.

"Why do you have ink spots all over your yellow T-shirt?" Percy asked.

Mr. D narrowed his eyes. "This, Johnson, is a leopard-print shirt. Are you trying to be funny? You know what's funny? The fact that you have to spend the next three years of your life here. Now that's funny."

"My name is Jackson. Percy Jackson. And if you would believe it, I didn't do it."

"It has not been a pleasure so far to meet you, Perry Joe. You are an insolent brat. I do not believe you, you lying scumbag. I hope you suffer greatly in this camp."

"Um, yeah, so I'll trust Jackson with you?" the driver asked uncomfortably, turning around to head back to the bus. 2 days here, another 2 days back. He needed a new job.

Mr D looked distastefully at Percy. "Walk to the office building."

Percy frowned. "I thought I was a full-time criminal now? You trust me to walk to the building without my hands being cuffed together or what? The witness at my trial nearly wet himself when I looked at him."

Mr. D scowled. "Perb, I have my methods. You will walk in front of me with your hands crossed behind your back, and if you try any funny business, I will castrate you." He produced a Swiss pocket knife from his pocket. "On the spot."

Percy gulped and folded his arms behind his back, then turned to walk towards the building, occasionally turning around to make sure Mr. D was not sneaking up on him.

Needless to say, Percy did not try anything funny.

* * *

_**ALL ABOUT LETTERS OF HOPE**_

_Letters Of Hope_ will account for 10% of your English grades. Please take this project seriously. _TYRC (Texas Youth Reformation Camp)_ will vouch for your personal safety, so in no way will this project endanger you, unless you choose to give away information that should remain private. _TYRC_ will in no way be held responsible if you are harmed by the camper you are writing to, should you give away such information. (ex. address, mobile phone number, email, ect.)

This project is organised by the _Texas Youth Reformation Camp_ and _KidsWrite (Trademarked)_. The list of schools participating in this project to encourage the youth in _TYRC_ (in no particular order). If your school is not listed in the following list, there has likely been a mistake; you would not need to participate in this project.

*Acrobella International School

*Crossroad High

*Sea Cove High

*Goode High

*Hearth Fire International Girls' School

*Derrick's Institution for Young Men

*St Mary Finishing School

_Do's:_

-Get to know the camper you are writing to better.

-Be kind in your letters.

-Introduce yourself. It is alright to give your name, hobbies/interests, to your 'pen pal'.

-Encourage the camper you are contacting to be positive and to quit committing crimes when they are released from Camp.

-Write longer letters.

-You can include pictures or drawings in your letter.

-If you want, you can even mail items to the camper you are contacting. The school will pay for the transportation fee. However, your items will be searched by Mr. D, camp director, for weapons and such.

_Don't's:_

-Be hostile and rude in your letter.

-Give away too much personal information (refer to above).

-Linger too much on your letters on the crime your 'pen pal' has committed. It would be best if you could steer clear of this subject.

-Discourage the camper in question by writing degrading things to them.

-Attempt to mail weapons to your 'pen pal'. If caught, you will automatically loose 5 percent of the 10 percent.

_Grading:_

The grading system for this project is complex. Just bear in mind that, as long as you put in effort, you will not get a low grade.

Please submit your letter to your teacher, who will mail it out for you. You can start writing letters to a camper immediately after you have read this letter and understood more about the project in general.

**THANK YOU FOR READING THROUGH THIS LETTER CAREFULLY. GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR PROJECT.**

**Signature of reader –**Yes I have read through this letter carefully and will do my best in this project**.**

Annabeth sighed as she finished the letter and tossed it on to the couch carelessly. She lay there for a moment, trying to process what she had just read.

* * *

"Alright Johnson," Mr. D said, sitting at his birch wood desk while Percy stood opposite him. Air-conditioning had never felt so good to him before, after a two days in a bumpy, stuffy bus.

"Let's officially initiate you and you can go play with the other brats for the rest of the day."

"…That would be nice…" Percy commented, not sure what else to say.

"When you're talking to me, it's _That would be nice, Mr. D_! That is rule number 1, is that clear? It's either _Yes Mr. D_, _No Mr. D_,_ Thank you Mr. D_, or whatever you want to say! Understood?!"

"Yes," Percy said, then hastily added "Mr. D" at the end.

"Good. Do you have any belongings with you?"

"Noo…? Mr. D."

"Good." The camp director said, tossing him a small wooden box. Percy looked at it. A tooth brush, a small tube of toothpaste, two orange shirts and two khakis. "Less paperwork. Here are your belongings. Take it, go to Section E, and play with the brats there, Peter. Dinner is at five thirty. Lights out at eight thirty. Wake up at 3 in the morning. Breakfast at three thirty. Lunch at the work site. See you. Get out of my office now, Parkinson."

"What? We wake up at 3 am?! No way, Mr. D."

"Get out. If you have any questions, ask Chiron. Out, Johnson."

"It's Jackson," Percy called behind his shoulder as he stumbled out of the office and back out under the scorching sun, carrying his wooden box and wondering which of the brick buildings in the distance belonged to Section E.


End file.
